


Forearmed, Forewarned

by shutupeccles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 23:11:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupeccles/pseuds/shutupeccles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville develops a kink for Draco’s arms</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forearmed, Forewarned

**Author's Note:**

> draconeville prompt: Dark Mark

 

Neville burst into the fourth floor senior toilets, sending jelly-legs to Carrow with an inverted flick of his wand. “Bloody perve!” The door noiselessly swung shut behind him as he realised he wasn’t alone.

Malfoy was at the furthest basin, magically bandaging his left forearm. Neville caught a glimpse of black as the cloth strip coiled around the last evidence of a Dark Mark.

“So it’s true then.” The thought of someone his age, someone he knew, being a Death Eater was revolting. The knowledge stirred anger and horror rather than fear. All three were briefly visible in Draco’s stance and expression. He recovered quickly, switching into his default Tosser mode.

“Your hero Potter didn’t tell you then? Youngest Death Eater in history assigned to kill Dumbledore and failed? Perhaps you’re not as intimately acquainted as you’d like to believe.”

Blasted Malfoy still knew how to hit a nerve. “Perhaps we’re not as intimately acquainted as **you’d** like to believe.”

“Oh god. Potter-Longbottom sex? As if my current nightmares aren’t traumatising enough.” Draco carefully rolled down his sleeve and buttoned the cuff, missing Neville’s unexpected amusement. “Well now you’ve caught up, be a dear and refrain from touching it—unless you seek a personal introduction to the Dark Lord?”

_Hello fear, thought I’d lost you._

“Didn’t think so,” Draco said. He patted Neville’s right cheek and left him to pee in peace.

*~~~*

His eyes were constantly drawn to Draco’s left arm. And his right—did they all have them in the same place?

It was criminal to mark such perfect skin with something so horrid. Neville thought up ways to track down the perpetrators and etch ‘Potter rules’ into their cheeks.

Draco loitered after what the Slytherins now called Death-to-Muggle Studies and barred Neville’s exit by placing his left arm across the door at chest height. Neville’s eyes tried to see through the layers of robe, sleeve and bandage. “Problem, Longbottom? Questions, perhaps? Granger isn’t here to answer them so if you want to know something you’ll have to ask.”

Neville had many questions. As usually happened when confronted with Malfoy he voiced the dumbest thought first. “Did it hurt?”

Draco lowered his arm. “Is that really the best you can do? Rumoured instigator of the student rebellion… told them you were too pathetic to be a genuine candidate.”

Neville did something incredibly stupid. He bent his head slightly and kissed Draco Malfoy. “Did they hold you down? Is it a burn or drawing? Raised or smooth? How does it work? Are they in the same place on everybody? Ever accidentally set it off while sleeping or in the bath? Does it muck with your mind knowing it’s always there and won’t go away until the chief Death Eater’s dead?” He asked a dozen more questions without giving Draco the chance to answer the first ones then stepped toward the door. The marked arm blocked his exit again.

“Yes, yes, both, depends on how pissed off he is, like those coins Granger made for your little social group only far more painful and complicated, depends on your wand arm, it’s the only filthy part of my body because I’m barely game to touch it with a sponge, constantly, no, sometimes, definitely not—what made you think of that? Bellatrix is pure bitch, my mother, only wand-bearing humans, no Hufflepuffs—which is hardly surprising, is it? And now I’ve lost track. Why did you do that?”

“You told me to ask.”

Draco leaned close so their faces were almost touching. “Not what I meant.”

Neville kissed him again. “That, you mean?”

Draco nodded slightly and kissed him back. Otherwise, they stood completely still. Their partially open lips met repeatedly, the contact becoming longer and deeper each time until a group of Third Years arrived for the next lesson. “Hope you’re satisfied Longbottom. We’ve missed fifteen minute pee break. If I mess my robes in double Dark Arts I’m holding you responsible.”

The Third Year boys chortled at the possible entendre. Neville grimaced. Draco winked at the chortlers as he swaggered past. Neville blinked, blushed and hurried off in the opposite direction, with a boner.

*~~~*

He caught Draco looking at him. He must have been thinking similar thoughts to Neville because he ducked his head then resumed looking from an angle with a smirk that made Neville hard. Neville’s courage led him to do as many stupid things as his fear. He scrawled _does sex set it off?_ on a corner of parchment, scrunched it into a ball and charmed it to flick Draco in the temple. Draco opened it and laughed abruptly in shock.

Snape glowered. “Having been on the receiving end of this particular spell I would expect you to show more respect. Or would you rather I left you in the boys’ lavatory to bleed to death while Potter panicked like an imbecile?”

There was a barely perceptible spark in the air where the baleful glare from grey eyes collided with that from black. The class held its breath. Draco looked away first, as expected. Snape nodded with a small smirk of disdain. Neville practiced the nonverbal spell on the sleeve of Snape’s robe and succeeded in slicing off a strip of cloth. The sharpest gaze swept the room before the black fabric hit the floor. “Longbottom, detention.”

*~~~*

“I’m not your boyfriend,” Draco said when Neville left detention. He must have been waiting at the bottom of Gryffindor tower. “In answer to your projectile: I hope not.”

Then he left.

*~~~*

Neville held Draco’s hands above his head, pressing them into the stone wall without letting their forearms touch while they pashed. He gripped both wrists in one hand and used the other to force Draco’s right sleeve to his elbow. He stared at the exposed arm, ran a finger along the blood vessels clearly outlined beneath pale skin and then kissed from wrist to elbow. Draco’s head pressed heavily against Neville’s chest. His hands clutched desperately as Neville unfastened the cuff of Draco’s left sleeve with his teeth.

“No, don’t.” Neville ignored him. Draco’s legs shifted. “I’ll knee you in the nuts.” Neville’s knees pinned Draco in place. “Please, don’t.”

“Aren’t you proud of it?” Neville’s voice was hoarse, adding another edge to the question.

“I hate it.” Draco’s malice scaled new heights with that statement.

“I don’t. It’s part of you.”

“If you say you love me I’m pressing the wretched thing.”

Neville laughed. Whatever they felt for each other couldn’t be described as love. “I won’t touch it, I promise.” Not yet, anyway. The protective wrapping fell away as he murmured “Diffindo.” He brought Draco’s arm down, pressed his mouth over the pulse-point of Draco’s wrist, and licked it.

Draco’s breathing became heavier. Neville sucked. Draco moaned. Neville traced a safe distance around the Dark Mark with careful lips. His hips rutted against Draco’s as he imagined humping Draco’s arms the way dogs humped legs, except he’d come, in the crook of an elbow, or the palm of a hand. He held Draco in the crucifix position by linking their fingers and extending their arms, careful not to touch between wrists and shoulders. He brought their mouths together and rubbed off against Draco until he came. “Naked, next time,” Neville panted.

“Not if you don’t finish me off this time.”

“Do it yourself, while I’m here.” He prevented Draco’s protest by kissing him and bringing one set of joined hands between them. He kept his hand on the back of Draco’s as they slid inside Draco’s pants, and then continued down to Draco’s balls to help. Draco’s cum was warm on Neville’s arm. He brought his hand up to squeeze Draco’s dick and ensured he was empty before removing his hand from Draco’s pants. “I want to fuck you,” he admitted in a deeply satisfied voice. He’d never used such harsh language in his life.

Draco kissed him until his jaw hurt. “Good.”

*~~~*

His thumb pressed between Draco’s balls and he fingered him faster than he fucked against his bare arm, too breathless to kiss. He silently wondered what pushing and rolling his balls like this over the Dark Mark would tell Voldemort. Would he arrive before Neville’s dick pierced Draco’s arse, during or not until it was over? Thoughts of getting caught sent him over the edge. They weren’t going any further today.

*~~~*

“Dance with me,” Neville asked as they met up in yet another empty classroom.

“That’s your strangest request to date, if merely for the lack of kink.” Yet Draco put his hands on Neville’s waist.

“No. Elbows over my shoulders, arms around my neck or back, roll your sleeves up.” Neville began removing his shirt. Draco stepped back.

“No. I don’t think I will.”

Neville looked up in surprise. His fingers paused while unfastening a button. “Why not?”

“You don’t find it a smidgeon grubby that the Order’s undercover right-hand-man gets off on Dark Marks?”

“I get off on the rest of you, too.”

“The rest of **us**?” Draco said with a sneer.

“No. You. I want to hang whoever put that on you upside down by their pubic hair and fill their arsehole with Blast-Ended Skrewt. It’s vandalism. I want to erase it by touching it, having you touch me with it. I know it’s a unicorn-poop pipe dream but I want to love it out of you.”

“You want to what?” Draco’s voice was as blank as his stare.

“That’s not what I meant.” Was it? “Do you want me to mean it?”

“I don’t know.”

Neville kissed him because on some level he did mean it, and knew it. Draco wasn’t the enemy Neville had built him up to be over the years. He was sharp, messed up, trapped, and made Neville incredibly horny. Draco put his arms around Neville’s neck and rolled up his sleeves as they danced.

*~~~*

“It’s both your arms, from fingertip to shoulder,” Neville decided as he adjusted them over Draco’s head. His eyes followed the progress of his hands over the smooth white limbs. He knew instinctively where not to touch. “They’re so perfect. I wouldn’t have noticed if not for that. The puzzling question is: why do you let me touch you and boss you around?”

“You’ve changed. And I like it. Everyone bosses me around but not the way you do.”

“Are we having a conversation?”

Draco laughed. His naked body bounced up against Neville’s. “We can discuss that after you fuck me—if we have time.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“I know. So are you.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. It’s bad enough I stoop to being shagged by a Gryffindor, you think I’d allow an ugly one to…?” Neville interrupted by moving his hips so his cock daubed pre-cum against the ridge beneath Draco’s balls. “ _Oh_.”

Draco cradled Neville’s head in the crook of his right arm as Neville prepared him and pushed inside. The pressure around his knob was astounding, remarkable, incredible, and he used these words to describe every movement and sound Draco made while they fucked.

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked before their simultaneous orgasm was complete.

“Not now. Later, when it’s safe,” Draco added quickly. “If you still want to be,” he said in a softer, uncertain voice.

“Why wouldn’t I?” When it’s safe? “You think we’re going to win.”

“I bloody hope so. Otherwise my aunt will eat my eyes for helping Potter escape. There’s no way she and my mother are from the same parents. Satan and Umbridge had a baby and snuck it into Grandmother’s house where it ate my real aunt, like a cuckoo-basilisk hatchling.”

“Don’t say that too loud, or Hagrid will be breeding them behind his hut.” Neville laughed with Draco and kissed him, forgetting Hagrid’s hut had been destroyed almost a year ago until their kiss ended. Then it hit him. Their paths would never cross once this school year ended, except on opposite sides of a battlefield. They had to win and they had to do it before NEWT. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Same,” Draco said.

Neville held the wrist below the Dark Mark and lifted Draco’s arm off the floor so they could both see the horrific image. “Whether that vulgar thing disappears or remains after the war, this will still be one of my favourite arms in the wizarding world.”

*~~~*

The Survivors’ Dance took on a deeper meaning as the graduating year celebrated the end of school.

“There have been many memorials for those who have fallen, too many. This evening will celebrate you. Forget the NEWT grades to be delivered. Each of you stands as a living testament to courage, determination, intelligence and love. You may well ask why Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley stand among you when the only day they attended Hogwarts this year brought devastation to its walls.” Professor McGonagall shrewdly assessed her audience. “And why there are so many absences from Slytherin house, though they were also invited.”

Graduating survivors from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw cheered because no Slytherin dared show their face. None of Neville’s friends noticed that he did not join in. Draco refused to return to Hogwarts, even for this. He and Neville had broken up after arguing about it. _We were supposed to be free, together._ He never got to see if the Dark Mark disappeared, or to tell his friends he’d had a boyfriend.

The dinner began and Neville watched Ron wait on a disbelieving yet clearly impressed Hermione. Dean Thomas held Luna’s chair out for her. Ginny flirted with Harry over treacle tart. Unescorted girls and one boy tried to flirt with him, but Neville felt too hollow to play along. He left the broken courtyard beneath its protective bubble of charms to sit on the crumbling steps of the once grand staircase. A faultless figure in fashionable dress robes eventually stepped out from between two toppled suits of armour. Neville quickly masked his smile.

“I’ll leave again if you don’t want me here.”

“My date,” Neville began to lie because the majority of things Draco said over the past seven years continued to hurt.

“I know you came alone, Longbottom. I may no longer be a Death Eater but my spies remain active.”

Neville’s hand briefly touched a place on the step to his left and returned to droop between his knees with its pair. Draco sat at the opposite side indicated. He forced his left hand into Neville’s right and pressed their forearms tightly together. Neville shook his hand loose and Draco pulled back his arm as he stood. Neville caught the retreating wrist in both hands and began to undo then roll up the sleeve. Both thumbs brushed over the unmarked skin and Neville followed this contact with his lips. It was as if the dreadful thing had never been there. His lips continued to the inside of Draco’s elbow before he looked up into eyes as fearful and hopeful as his own. “When? How?”

“Because the thing that made it’s dead, so they say. I prefer to think it was loved away. Or fucked off,” he added wryly.

Neville smiled up at him. “Reformed Death Eater orgy?”

“No, some goon from Gryffindor. Couldn’t keep his dick off me, had an unsavoury fascination with my arms. Doubt he thinks of me now he’s a Potter-level hero. Papers are bound to label him the Boy Who Rebelled or some nonsense.”

“That would probably sell more copies than He Who Fucked My Arse.”

“Whereas ‘He Who Fucked My Arms’ should keep Lovegood’s _Quibbler_ in business for generations,” Draco quipped. Then he smiled.

“Apology accepted. You’re forgiven. Dance with me.”

Draco hauled Neville to his feet.

“Not here sexy-arms,” Neville said.

“I’m not going out there.”

They argued about it again. “Are you my boyfriend or not?” Neville yelled before the name-calling could begin.

“Do you want your friends to hate you? Look down on you and pity you more than they used to? Then by all means, show them the low-life company you’ve been keeping this year!”

“My friends aren’t like yours!”

They stared at each other. The Patil sisters and Hannah Abbott stared at Draco as they accompanied Lavender Brown to the girls’ toilet. Insults and ‘Imperius Curse’ were whispered amongst them. Draco stepped away from Neville. “That’s why I didn’t want to come.”

“Then why did you?”

Draco stepped further away with a small shake of his head. He rolled his lips together and looked away.

“You can’t say it, can you? You never could, even when we were naked and doing it. I’m not fucking you to make you feel better about yourself.”

“See?” Draco raged. “If **you** think that, why should anyone else think otherwise? They’re not going to believe I love you. Even if I told you every day for the next hundred years **they’d** convince you I never did.” He tore a tattered tapestry off the wall as he sauntered further into the Great Hall.

Neville went after him, caught him from behind, and held him tight. Their faces were pressed together almost painfully but Neville refused to adjust his grip until Draco stopped resisting. He’d fought hard these past years and wasn’t about to give up now.

“I love you,” Draco said in a small voice.

“Same,” Neville replied. They kissed over Draco’s shoulder.

Draco hauled his arms from Neville’s constrictive embrace and covered Neville’s hands with his before pressing their arms together. They kissed again, a long, lingering, tonguing meeting of mouths that made Neville hard. Without letting go, he steered Draco to the lectern in front of the staff table and placed his lover’s hands on the top corners.

“You are kidding.”

Neville proved he wasn’t by dragging his hands from Draco’s wrists to shoulders and back again while moving slowly against his buttocks.

“Warrior **and** kinky, what other wonderful surprises do you have for me, Longbottom?” Draco let out an abrupt ‘ah’ as Neville sucked vigorously at a spot on his neck then silently let Neville hump against him and roll up his sleeves. Neville rubbed his palms over soft, exposed skin from wrists to elbows then lifted his hands and began again, applying more pressure and leaning against Draco’s more heavily. Draco provided encouragement by pushing back with his shoulders and hips.

“Diffindo” made short work of their trousers and underwear, tearing the fabric in half. Neville grinned against Draco’s neck. “Don’t move,” he whispered hoarsely and knelt down to lick his partner open. He heard Draco’s head ‘thunk’ on the lectern as his tongue first made contact. His hands gripped Draco’s hips, then thighs, then cock and balls, then squeezed both thighs again as he felt Draco’s knees begin to jounce in time with his probing tongue. Neville was going to come, soon. He wanted to do it inside his boyfriend but wasn’t prepared. He spat on a hand, smeared the saliva over his dick and concentrated on transfiguring it into a prophylactic skin. The result was thin, and probably not too durable, but should do the job as he wasn’t going to last long. Neville got to his feet, not as clumsily as he used to, and inserted the head of his covered erection into Draco’s arse. Draco pushed back and down, not as clumsily as he used to, and Neville’s dick began to slide deeper in. Neville hastily reached forward to grasp Draco’s forearms and held tight as he thrust and fucked.

Their groans, moans, and grunts gradually spread throughout the Great Hall and merged as the gentle echoes crossed. Neville fucked harder to hear the slap of his pelvis against the curve of Draco’s bum ring out. Luckily the damaged doors were closed. Hopefully passers-by assumed the castle ghosts were in here mourning the destruction of their castle and wouldn’t bother searching for the source of their oddly harmonic sounds. Draco bent forward, angling his arse back and up so Neville could rub closer to the spot he hadn’t managed to hit yet. Neville reluctantly released Draco’s arms, snatched his hips instead and roughly pulled him onto his dick as he arched forward.

“Oh—fuck—me—dead!” Draco cried out sharply but the lectern muffled his exclamation somewhat. His knees buckled and toes curled by the feel of it. Neville came.

“Found it then?” he panted against Draco’s rumpled shirt as he swivelled to release the last of his load.

“God, I hope so. Don’t think I could handle it, if that wasn’t it.”

“Rumours true?”

“Blinding. Bloody, fantastic. Give me a chance to—oh—recover before a full, interrogation, alright? And fix my pants. They cost more than the Weasley’s weekly groceries.”

*~~~*

Neville held his boyfriend’s arms around the front of his waist as he smuggled him onto the makeshift dance-floor in the centre of the unevenly cobbled courtyard. Draco’s dishevelled dress robes were pulled up over his head to hide his distinctive white hair. He murmured that Neville seemed to have developed an unsightly hump as they shuffled awkwardly through the crowd. Neville chuckled, knowing Draco could not see his amusement. Once he found the kissing corner he waited for the snogging-while-allegedly-dancing couples to forget he was there before turning inside Draco’s dress robes to smile at him and then snog him senseless. Their mouths were hotter than their sweaty faces under the dark fabric. They joked about impersonating a Dementor before settling into a pattern of slow, steady kisses with regular changes to the tilt of their heads to prevent their necks getting sore. They realised that the covering had slipped off while Draco’s head rested on Neville’s shoulder and Neville vigorously snogged him from above.

“Mr Malfoy!” Professor McGonagall scolded from directly beside them. “What do you think you are do-? Oh.” She stepped back with a flustered hand over her chest and blush across her cheeks as Neville and Draco turned to her. Their lips remained stuck together and slowly peeled apart. “My apologies, Neville did not mention he was bringing a date.”

“Last minute decision,” Draco replied hoarsely. Neville felt his posture change, expecting a confrontation.

“As you were,” Professor McGonagall said with uncharacteristic softness. Her eyes and lips smiled so briefly at Neville might have imagined it.

“A-hm. It’s not like you to disobey McGonagall. I believe she said ‘As you were’ Longbottom,” Draco said bossily.

Neville smiled at him and briefly teased Draco’s lips with his before settling into their previous positions and slipping his tongue into Draco’s mouth. Draco rested the right elbow on Neville’s left hip and reached across his back to hold his left shoulder while draping his left arm around Neville’s neck. His sleeves were still rolled up so Neville could feel the bare forearm, Dark Mark free, pressed against his skin.

*~~~*

Neville woke with a start in Draco’s bed at Malfoy Manor with Draco curled around his naked back, one bare Draco arm wrapped possessively around his chest and the other clasped between his legs.

“Go back to sleep. Too tired to fuck anymore,” Draco grumbled.

“Your dick is still in my arse,” Neville murmured.

“Dreaming about fucking. Not too tired for that.”

Neville chuckled drowsily and Draco’s dick slid out.

“Gryffindor goon, ruin everything.”

“Slytherin slime, spoil my reputation.”

“Love you, fuck you in the morning.”

“Same.”

Neville put a hand on each of Draco’s arms and went back to sleep, holding him close.  



End file.
